


The Einherjar’s No Good Very Stressful and Incredibly Difficult Job of Protecting Tony Stark

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Developing Friendships, Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Minor Injuries, Minor Violence, POV Outsider, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Romantic Fluff, Stress, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is Not Helping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-30 01:44:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19842970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: When the Einherjar notice that Tony Stark makes Prince Loki happier than anyone – or anything – else, they decide that protecting the mortal is a matter of complete importance, and put all of their resources toward the task.But… their job would be a whole lot easier if Stark would just stop putting his life in danger at every possible opportunity.





	The Einherjar’s No Good Very Stressful and Incredibly Difficult Job of Protecting Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [STARSdidathing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/STARSdidathing/gifts), [Rabentochter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/gifts).



> Once again, this monster was born from a conversation with **STARSdidathing** and **Rabentochter** , where we realised that the poor Einherjar would probably get a little stressed whenever Tony came to visit his boyfriend.  
>   
> Also, a few people from the FI discord might remember me stressing over this one a couple months ago, and I would just like to remind you all that no matter what any of you say, the only pairing in this fic is Loki/Tony and I will not hear any different xD

When Halvar Lofnson received his amour upon being granted the prestigious position of one of the Allfather’s Einherjar, it was the proudest moment of his life.

He had worked toward it for centuries, had trained and trained and had withstood all of the Aesir who told him that he could not do it, that he was too small, that he was not of the right birth. His father would be proud, when Halvar could finally show him the glossy gold helmet and the cape that swept to his ankles, a symbol of strength and resilience. Halvar was certainly proud of _himself_ , for he knew that he had earned his position, and he could not wait to begin the respected and meaningful work he would do as an Einherji.

When he was inducted, he had been expecting the ceremony– they had all been prepared in their training, told what to expect, and of course they had been drilled over and over on how to act in the presence of the Allfather. He walked up to the dais with his head held proud, had knelt with the grace afforded only by meticulous practice, and had hidden the smile that threatened to break through when Gungnir touched his shoulder. And when he rose as an Einherjar, as one of Asgard’s _elite_ , he did not even trip as he made his way back to his seat.

Yes, he had been expecting all of that, and he had been quite looking forward to what he knew would come afterward, the food and the wine and the dancing. But he had not been expecting Vitur – one of the more senior Einherjar footsoldiers – to tap him on the shoulder and draw him away from the celebratory feast.

Vitur lead him down a hall, through a passage and out of the palace. They went all the way down to the city, and as they moved through the streets, Halvar saw more and more Einherjar heading in the same direction.

When he saw that their destination was a tavern, Halvar had been expecting the place to be rowdy, perhaps a secondary party hidden away from the royals and their advisors. But, once again, those expectations were proven false– for what he walked into looked more like the set up for an interrogation, if interrogations traditionally involved only one interrogatee sitting alone at a table while the entire body of the Einherjar crowded around.

Vitur sat opposite him, leaning forward, and Halvar realised that he must be their spokesperson of a sort. His rank did not place him at the head of the Einherjar, but he was clearly respected by the group as a whole, and it was obvious that he was the one Halvar would need to convince of… well, of what he was about to be asked.

Halvar swallowed, trying to prepare himself for an onslaught. He did not know what was coming, but if it was anything like the hazing he had been forced to endure at the hands of the older trainees when he had first joined the Einherjar training program, then he knew that there likely was not a way to prepare for it, regardless.

But then Vitur asked his question, and it threw Halvar for a loop.

“What do you think of Prince Loki?”

He blinked.

_What?_

It was an odd question, and certainly not one that Halvar had been expecting. But all of the other Einherjar were leaning forward intently, as if this was what they had come to hear. Halvar, unfortunately, was the only inductee this night, since the others in his class had not yet passed their final test. Every piece of attention was on him, and so, regardless of the oddity, he knew that he would have to answer.

“He is my prince,” Halvar said slowly, remembering all that he had been taught by both his trainers, and his schoolmasters and parents before them. “I will serve him as required, and I will protect him at all costs.”

A few chuckles spread through the room, but the majority of Halvar’s observers remained quiet and serious.

“That is a good answer, Halvar,” Vitur said, “but it is not the one that we are looking for. I am not asking to know how you will treat him– I am asking what you think of Prince Loki as a _person_.”

Now, that question– that was _dangerous_ , and Halvar suddenly understood why this had been brought away from the palace and to a location filled only with their comrades.

He could feel the back of his neck prickle with unease, and he wondered whether this was still some kind of test. Was Heimdall watching him now, waiting to see if he would break his oath within an hour of making it, committing treason and damning himself to a life of disgrace?

But Vitur was right in front of him, the closer threat, as it were– and Halvar could see that he was watching carefully, his eyes hard and assessing. Vitur would know if Halvar lied, he was certain of it. So, he steeled himself with a deep breath, and he spoke the truth.

“I believe that Prince Loki is good for this Realm,” he started. “He is certainly clever and astute, and from what I have seen, he deals with foreign dignitaries with more confidence than Prince Thor, although I know not of what they speak. I think that Prince Loki is… wise, but not kind. He… well, he…”

“He’s not the nicest person you’ve ever met?” Vitur looked amused now, his entire expression having lightened, and it pulled Halvar’s relief forward easily.

“No,” Halvar agreed. “He is not.”

“And what of recent times?” Vitur asked. “What have you noticed?”

Halvar frowned, because now that he thought about it…

“He has been lighter,” he allowed. “There have been less arguments of late, between he and Prince Thor.”

“And the way he treats others? The way he treats _us?”_

“Well,” Halvar shrugged, trying not to let his nervousness show. “I have heard that he no longer bites the head off every person who brings him a message?”

“That’s true,” Vitur said, and Halvar relaxed slightly as he realised that he must have given the right answer. “At least,” Vitur continued, “he does not so long as Tony Stark is here.”

“Tony Stark?” Halvar said, surprised that _he_ was being brought up now. “Of Midgard?”

“The very same. He and Prince Loki are lovers.”

And, well. Halvar _knew_ that, because it had caused quite a stir when Prince Loki had brought him to Asgard for the first time, breaking not only the rule which stated that mortals could not be present without the agreement of the Allfather, but also ignoring the fact that as a member of the royal family, he was expected to take a _wife_. But Loki had announced his intention to claim the mortal as his love in a grand speech before the entire city prior to entering the palace, and the Allfather hadn’t a choice but to allow it. For to deny Loki his mortal after that would be to announce to the entire realm that he placed tradition over his son’s own happiness.

And besides, while any royal generally must accept that it is their duty to put the Realm above themselves, Loki’s situation was… ah, a little different, wasn’t it? And to be honest, most of the Realm agreed that it was for the better to allow Loki to do what he wished, especially in this area.

It was a well-known fact that Loki would protect his lover fiercely, and would likely tear apart anyone who tried to separate them.

Halvar did not relay every thought to Vitur, of course, merely stating that he had noticed how Loki had been of fairer temperament these past few months.

“And you have made the connection as to why that is?” Vitur asked with exaggerated patience which betrayed his slight frustration.

Halvar merely shook his head. He had his _suspicions_ , obviously, but he did not understand why he was being made to talk about this when he was supposed to be celebrating his appointment.

“Halvar,” Vitur said firmly. “Prince Loki is only pleasant so long as his mortal is here. You have seen the way they are together?”

This time Halvar nodded, remembering his earlier thoughts, but still not quite _understanding._

“If Tony Stark comes to harm, then the whole of Asgard will suffer,” Vitur said. Halvar looked around, half expecting someone to be cracking a smile under the pressure of holding in the joke, but every expression was stony. When his gaze came back to Vitur, the older Aesir was staring at him with hard eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

He didn't quite believe it, but he _did_ understand, so he told them so. And after that, it was like the serious atmosphere of the tavern melted away, and the Einherjar rose to their feet and clacked their drinks together, starting up the raucousness that Halvar had expected to see when he’d entered.

“Welcome to the ranks,” Vitur said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Now, come on. Let’s get you a drink.”

So, finally, Halvar got his party– but it didn’t quite feel real, anymore.

After all, when he had joined the Einherjar, Halvar had certainly _not_ expected to be told that his primary mission would be to protect a mortal.

* * *

For a while, Halvar thought it had been joke. Surely the Einherjar did not bother with a _mortal_ – their duty was first to the Allfather, then to Prince Thor, and then to Queen Frigga and Prince Loki. Beyond that, their duty was to _Asgard_ , and Halvar did not see why the Einherjar should care for a _mortal_ , even if he were important to a member of the royal family.

Surely, he thought, surely it must have been some ritual, a prank to try and scare the new recruit.

But then, one evening, he was resting in the Bilgesnipe’s Nose – the tavern most frequented by the Einherjar – after a long day of standing at his post in the main corridor just a few yards down from the entrance to the Great Hall, when a few of his comrades walked in looking absolutely _exhausted_.

Their shoulders were slumped, their expressions completely shattered, their eyes dull and missing any form of spark.

The other Einherjar seemed to understand immediately. There were a few sympathetic mutters, and there was a rush to buy the tired soldiers a drink.

“What did he do this time?” someone asked.

“He was examining the Bifröst,” one of the tired Aesir said. Leradur, perhaps?

“Oh, it is always stressful when he does that,” another nodded, patting Leradur on the shoulder to the chorus of the whole tavern agreeing with the sentiment.

“Are they talking about Stark?” Halvar whispered to the Einherji beside him. His name was Finnur, and they had been posted together several times in the month since Halvar’s initiation.

“Of course they are.” Finnur gave Halvar an odd look. “Didn’t you receive the talk about Tony Stark when you were inducted?”

“Yes, I did,” Halvar said.

“Well then. You should know.” Finnur turned back around, and Halvar could tell that he wasn’t really being dismissive– he was just interested in what the others had to say.

“He didn’t get too close to the edge, did he?” one Einherji was asking. “That really makes Prince Loki nervous—”

“He was close enough that his flying armour had to prevent him from falling,” Leradur said. He buried his face in his hands, but his frustration was still audible when he said, _“_ It had to save him _four times_.”

There was another chorus of sympathy, and then the Einherjar clamoured to buy more drinks. More stories began to be told as the old hats shared their own experiences chasing after Stark, and while Halvar could not possibly follow all of them, he managed to hear snippets, and his eyes grew wider with every single one.

_Jumped off the top of the palace—_

_Tried to examine the Allfather’s throne—_

_Do you remember when he offered to help Lady Sif fix what was ‘wrong with her hair’—_

_Attempted to make friends with Sleipnir—_

“He’s got a death wish, he has to,” Finnur muttered under his breath as he led Halvar back to their seats, shaking his head. “The number of times that we have had to save him…”

“Why _do_ we have to save him?” Halvar asked curiously.

Finnur frowned. “I thought you said that you understood everything Vitur told you at your appointment?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Halvar responded quickly. “I just meant that, why do we have to save him from those sorts of things? I myself have suffered a bite from Sleipnir, and nothing came of it– surely Stark does not need to be protected from every little thing?”

“He is a _mortal_ ,” Finnur said, as if that explained everything. And, actually, perhaps it did.

Mortals were, well. _Mortal_. They were weak and easily injured, and they healed an awful lot slower than most other races in the Nine. And yet, despite their relative fragility, they seemed to enjoy throwing themselves into the worst possible situations.

Perhaps it was their short life-span. If Halvar knew he only had a mere century to live, perhaps he would throw himself into the joys of life as well, no matter the danger.

But Stark did not only have his own life to consider. Halvar knew that none of the Einherjar were exaggerating when they said that Prince Loki’s recent good temperament was directly linked to the mortal’s presence, and he also knew that if the mortal were to meet his end, that Prince Loki would not only become inconsolable– he would no doubt also become cold and hard and _vicious_ in a vein similar to what they had seen after he had first discovered his true heritage.

So, yes, Tony Stark might be a mortal, but it if this one kept Prince Loki happy, if he were the reason why there was a rumour spreading around that Loki had actually relearned how to _smile,_ then Halvar knew that the other Einherjar were right.

The mortal needed to be protected at all costs.

* * *

The first time Halvar saw Tony Stark up close, the mortal was hanging upside down from the tree in the centre of the palace courtyard. It wasn’t a particularly _tall_ tree– not even by Asgard’s standards, and Halvar knew that it would be almost considered a mere shrubbery in Alfheim.

If Halvar fell from that height, he would suffer perhaps a bruise or two, nothing that would not heal in a matter of minutes– and that only if he did not land on his feet. Perhaps if he did not stick the landing he might suffer a broken ankle, but that would be the worst of it.

But Stark was a _mortal_.

If he were being totally honest, Halvar did not know much about human anatomy. All he had to go on was the Einherjar doctrine of protecting Stark at all costs, and the knowledge that humans were not as durable as Aesir.

If Stark fell, would his bones shatter? Would his flesh become a smear along the courtyard’s paving stones?

If such a thing happened Halvar knew he would be to blame, and then he would surely not only lose his commission, but also all respect– for the pain Asgard would suffer would be his fault.

The thought almost stopped Halvar’s heart dead in his chest, and a lump formed heavy in his throat as he moved forward with long, hurried steps.

“Stark?”

Stark jerked at the sudden noise, and Halvar almost bit the inside of his cheek as Stark was forced to regain his balance– but he managed, and Halvar breathed easy once again.

Though it was hard to relax entirely, when Stark was hanging upside down from the tallest branch on the tree.

Once he was steady, Stark’s gaze glanced around the courtyard until he determined that Halvar was the one who had spoken.

“Oh, hello!” Stark greeted.

“Hello,” Halvar said hesitantly. “Are you… all right?”

“Perfectly fine,” Stark said cheerfully. “In fact, I think I’m better than fine. It’s just such a lovely day, wouldn’t you say?”

Halvar frowned at the brightness. Perhaps the hanging upside down had rushed all of Stark’s blood to his brain and affected his thinking.

“Why are you up there?” Halvar asked.

Stark looked a little thrown by the question– or, well, at least as far as Halvar could tell. It was difficult to say, since Halvar _was_ reading Stark’s expression upside down.

Thankfully, though, it seemed that the mortal did choose to answer.

“Well, see, I have a bet,” Stark said. “It’s a complicated one with a guy who can turn green _mostly_ on command, regarding the laws of gravity and a certain story about an apple.” Stark waved a hand down above – under? – his head with a grin. “I was waiting for one of the warrior’s three to pass under here to be honest,” Stark said with a guilty smile that seemed to give the impression that he wasn’t actually feeling guilty about that at all.

And even though Halvar hadn’t been able to make sense of half of that, he knew what he needed to do next. “So, I don’t suppose that you would want to get down?”

Stark tilted his head. “Why?”

Halvar doubted that lying to the Prince’s partner would be looked upon kindly, but nor did he believe that telling the truth would go over well. If Stark were anything like, well, _either_ of the princes, he would immediately become churlish if told he was being protected.

And besides, it was something that he had been told back in the Bilgesnipe’s Nose.

_Do not let Stark nor Prince Loki know what we are doing. If they know, our work will become far more difficult._

Halvar didn’t get that entirely– because surely, Prince Loki would be on their side when it came to protecting his lover.

But that didn’t matter, because none of it helped him with his problem of not having a way of getting Stark down from the tree.

Stark didn’t appear to have noticed his concerns– he was still chattering about some person named ‘Newton’, and muttering about gambling and something else that Halvar could not quite make out.

Stark was not even holding on with his hands, now– he had his knees hooked over the branch, his arms dangling free.

If he fell, he would have no means of catching himself—

He would land straight on his _head—_

Then, just as he was starting to panic, Halvar heard footsteps and familiar voice approach from behind.

“Stark, Prince Thor has requested your presence,” Bjornar said as he came to stand beside Halvar.

“What?” Stark asked. “Thor? Where is he?”

“I believe he was heading to the training grounds, Sir. He mentioned something about wanting to build a mechanical spider?”

At that, Stark perked up immediately, and swung himself back properly onto his branch without question. Halvar caught himself chewing on his lip and wringing his hands as Stark made his descent, but thankfully, the mortal made it to the ground without incident.

“Thanks guys,” Stark said, offering them a sharp grin before beginning to head toward the training grounds with a bounce in his step. “I’m going to go and find Thor. I guess I’ll see you ‘round!”

The moment Stark was out of sight, Halvar turned to stare at the older Einherji with a mix of shock and admiration.

“How did you manage that?”

“Sometimes, he just needs a nudge in the right direction,” Bjornar said with a shrug.

Halvar gaped. “Was Prince Thor even looking for him?”

“Of course not.” The older Einherji glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “You still have much to learn.”

“Then why didn’t you send him to Prince Loki? Surely that would be more believable—”

“At first, perhaps,” Bjornar said with a shrug. “But Prince Loki would quickly notice the misdirection. Prince Thor, on the other hand, will be as equally excited by Stark’s new idea to bother wondering why Stark sought him out.”

“Are... you sure that’s a good idea?” Halvar asked, still hesitant. After all, he did not know Stark well, but from what he had heard– there appeared to be a single, glaring flaw in Bjornar’s plan. “What if he gets to the training ground with that idea in his head and he—”

“Ah, Bömbur and Glóin are on duty down there today,” Bjornar said with a shrug. “They shall be able to keep him out of trouble.”

“But wouldn’t it have been better not to give him the idea in the first place?”

“Stark will respond if you pique his curiosity,” Bjornar explained. “If you learn that, then it will make your job here far easier. Now, come on. I could do with a bite to eat after that.”

So it was that Bjornar led the way to the Bilgesnipe’s Nose, and Halvar had his chance to regal the Einherjar inside with the tale of his very own ‘Stark’ incident. Although this was only the first, Halvar found himself sure there would be plenty more to come.

(And when Bömbur and Glóin arrived a couple of hours later looking run ragged and complaining about the speed and viciousness of the mechanical spider Stark had just set loose on the training field, Halvar followed Bjornar’s lead and kept his head low.)

* * *

The day that Tony Stark challenged Prince Thor to a duel was the day that the ranks of the Einherjar very nearly had a collective heart attack.

They were, of course, torn, for it was their sworn duty to protect Prince Thor at all costs, but they had made it their mission to ensure that Tony Stark was well looked after since the first time Prince Loki had brought him to Asgard.

In an attempt to keep their heads on their shoulders they reminded each other that Prince Thor and Stark were shield brothers, that they fought together and lived together and were good _friends_ , and that neither would be willing to truly hurt the other.

They reminded each other of that when Prince Thor threw Stark down hard enough that his armour left dents in the ground—

They reminded each other of that when Stark’s repulsor beams burned bright and hot as they shot toward the prince’s chest—

And they reminded each other of that when Mjolnir flew close enough to Stark’s head that she scratched the metal of his helmet.

They were _shield brothers_. Even as their battle grew more intense, each growing more determined to rise as the victor the longer the fight continued, they could still see that there was no true intention of harm.

And watching it, Halvar found himself almost awed. Here was a mortal, a _fragile human_ , who was willing to go toe to toe with the strongest and most powerful warrior in all of Asgard– and not only that, but he was actually managing to hold his own. It seemed that both he and Thor were enjoying it, actually, and Halvar had almost started to _relax_.

Of course, he should have known that would be the moment that everything would begin to go wrong. Prince Thor raised his hammer to the sky and brought it down in an almighty crash, and a lightning bolt thundered from the sky to strike Stark almost directly in the centre of his chest. The whole armour was sparking with electricity, and there was no _way_ that a mortal could survive such a thing. 

Halvar charged forward immediately, and he wasn’t the only one– the whole training ground was suddenly writhing with a stampede of Einherjar as they all struggled to get to him, all desperate to see if he was all right.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Stark said with annoyance, pushing them way. “Honestly, this has happened before, Thor just gave me a little extra juice– look—”

He raised his hand, and Halvar jumped out of the way instinctively as a beam of pure _energy_ exploded from the mortal’s palm and struck a large stone that the warriors often liked to rest upon between their bouts.

The stone didn’t crack under the onslaught– it _shattered_ , exploding outward and causing the nearby Einherjar to dive out of the way.

Halvar blinked at the remaining debris, impressed, and then turned back to face the mortal with a little more respect than he had held before.

Why were they protecting him again?

“See?” Stark said, turning up his nose even as he shook his hand, as if trying to rid himself of an itch. “I am more than capable of looking after myself, all right?”

“Don’t believe him,” Vitur muttered quietly at Halvar’s side as Stark pushed through the crowd and made his way back over to Thor. “I once saw that mortal attempt to get on a horse and fall sixteen times before he gave in and allowed Prince Loki to help him. He does not know when to halt.”

To be honest, Halvar thought that was a rather admirable quality, though he could also see how it would put all of the Einherjar’s teeth on edge.

Then, as if to prove Vitur’s words true, Stark tripped over a piece of the rock he had exploded and fell flat on his face, suit and all. (The Einherjar, sill in awe, were too frozen to be able to catch him in time.)

 _Ah_ , Halvar thought. _Yes. That’s why._

Stark was both stubborn and reckless, and it certainly did not make the job of looking after him any easier.

* * *

When the day came that Halvar was posted at the _front doors_ to the palace, he was brimming with excitement.

It was an important post– for it was the main entrance, the doors through which any threat might enter at any moment. It required the never ending vigilance of sharp eyes and a bright mind, and the fact that he had been trusted to do it indicated that he had begun to prove himself as a useful member of the Einherjar’s ranks.

It had been a quiet morning. There were no inter-realm dignitaries expected, and the only people to go in and out were some of the Allfather’s advisors and a few of the staff who lived in the city.

Still, Halvar remained sharp, and at his side, he knew Finnur was the same.

It was how they heard the voice before the doors opened from the _inside_ , and Halvar’s ears pricked as he recognised it.

“I want to see it,” Stark was insisting. “It’s where you’re from—”

“It is nothing to me,” Prince Loki’s voice replied. “It is where I was _born_ , but nothing more. I have only returned briefly since, and not under friendly circumstance– it would be far better to avoid it.”

The doors opened then, and the pair stepped out. They were walking as close together as always– their hands were not clasped, but their arms brushed intermittently as Stark used his hands to gesticulate his words.

“We can go under an illusion, you’re powerful enough to hide us,” he was saying as they moved toward the steps, the large doors closing magically behind them. But they did not get far, for Stark reached out to catch Loki’s sleeve, bringing them to a halt. “Hey. I won’t make you do this, Loki,” he said, holding his partner’s gaze. “If you don’t want to, then that’s it, we’ll stay here, no questions asked.”

Prince Loki was known for being volatile, for having a temper that once was kept well in check, but now could spill out in dark words and harsh glares. Where his tongue was once honeyed silver, it had been poisoned by betrayal and pain, and now all he had was the sharpness of cut glass.

But instead of answering Stark’s soft-treads with bite, his expression softened, and his next words were little more than an affectionate sigh. “This is important to you?” he asked.

“I know you don’t feel connected to that place, but I just… I just want to _know_ ,” Stark replied gently, leaning his cheek into Loki’s touch as his own fingers curled around Loki’s wrist.

Halvar felt a little uneasy, like he was intruding upon a private moment. Oh, he was well aware of the way that guards standing still at their posts could easily become unnoticed to the point of being invisible, even those wearing uniform that looked like the Einherjar’s. But it still felt wrong, to be standing right there when Prince Loki and Stark were having what was clearly a tender moment.

But then, as he realised _where_ they were discussing, Halvar began to feel even worse.

You see, Halvar was aware, of course, that Prince Loki was in fact a Jötunn. They had all been made aware years ago during the prince’s trial, but since his exoneration and subsequent reinstated position, it was simply not mentioned. It was odd and, maybe a little _frightening_ to remember that there was a Frost Giant in their midst, but Loki had been raised Aesir, and they all knew that he had Asgard’s best interests at heart. Even when he had gone a little rogue, Loki had still done what he had because he thought it was the best for the Realm.

But knowing that Prince Loki was a Frost Giant meant that Halvar also knew exactly which realm they were considering for a visit. He had been with the Einherjar for long enough now and had borne witness to enough post-Stark discussions that the thought sent his heart plummeting to his feet and lodging in his throat somehow all at the same time.

“Oh, Norns,” Halvar whispered, tearing his gaze from where Loki and Stark were swiftly moving down the stairs and glancing over to Finnur instead. “What do we do?”

“We stop them,” Finnur said firmly. “Come on.”

They followed as quickly as they could, and even though Prince Loki was always the _most_ difficult person to keep an eye on – although, if he were being honest, Halvar thought that the prince’s partner could certainly give him a run for his money – they managed to keep the pair in their sights. They passed a servant and sent her with an urgent message, and thankfully, by the time they made it to the Bifröst, the way was blocked by several ranks of their comrades.

“What is this?” The prince asked, his eyes flashing dangerously. It was the kind of look that might have once had the Einherjar stuttering and worrying about which animal they would awaken as the following morn, but these days, they would merely wait.

And sure enough—

“Hey, Lokes, they’re just doing their job,” Stark said, resting a hand on the prince’s shoulder, his arm curling around Loki’s back and drawing him a little closer. And Halvar could actually _see_ the prince relaxing, the tension melting away as his body turned slightly toward Stark’s. Halvar doubted that Loki even realised he was doing it.

“We cannot allow you to travel to Jotunheim,” Vitur said firmly.

“You cannot _allow_ us?” Loki asked, though there was less bite to it than there would have been had Stark not been pressed against his side. Even as he spoke, Halvar saw one of Loki’s hands come to rest on the small of Stark’s back.

“I mean,” Stark said brightly, turning his head to look at Loki. “If they’re adamant that we can’t go, I could just ask Tyr, right?”

Even though Halvar was standing behind them, he could tell that Loki was smirking at that.

Vitur, on the other hand, looked distinctly uncomfortable. After all, as far as Halvar understood it– Lord Tyr, the leader of the Einherjar, was unaware of the mission his troops had undertaken.

“There will be no need for that,” Vitur said stiffly. “But my prince… you are aware of the dangers. I respectfully request that you remain here.”

The courtesy seemed to be enough to curb the prince’s remaining irritation– and the fact that he didn’t immediately begin to act contrary seemed to be enough of an indication to everyone that he had not truly wished to take the trip to begin with.

However—

“Anthony, if you still wish to go…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Stark sighed. “And hey– there’s more stuff to do here, right? Didn’t you say the other day that you wanted to show me an orchard, or something?”

“I thought you wanted to see Jotunheim _first?_ ” Loki asked, and as they walked past Halvar, he saw the prince’s expression soften.

“I would have liked to,” Stark said. “But it’s not necessary. You’re right, it shouldn't hold any weight over us.”

Halvar caught one last glance of Loki pressing his lips to Stark’s cheek before Vitur was shouting for he and Finnur to return to their post– which, you know, was probably fair.

They had, after all, left the front door of the palace entirely undefended.

Oops.

* * *

The next time Halvar saw Stark, it was on his _day off_.

And yes, okay, so he was wearing his uniform, but that had only been because Einherjar got a special deal in the bakery, and he couldn’t claim the discount if he just wore his ordinary clothing.

But it was meant to just be a quick outing. Into the bakery, buy the bread (and the cake that he just simply _couldn’t_ resist), and then back home to enjoy his heavily discounted prize.

But then—

“Hey, hang on a minute!”

Halvar didn’t even realise that the call was directed at him—

Then a hand landed on his shoulder so suddenly that Halvar spun around in shock, lashing out with the weapon in his hands—

And honestly, he was lucky that the ‘weapon’ was only a stick of bread rather than his sword, because… Norns, Halvar didn’t even want to think about what would have happened otherwise.

Stark was bent over, his hands rubbing at his forehead. “Goddamnit,” he muttered.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” Halvar exclaimed, shoving the broken bread under his arm and reaching out, unsure of _how_ he could help but wanting to try nonetheless. “I didn’t realise—”

“It’s fine,” Stark muttered, waving Halvar off and standing up straight, looking completely well save for his mussed hair and a red mark over his right eye. “I shouldn’t have surprised you, I just thought I…” He trailed off as he squinted up at Halvar’s face, before flashing a triumphant smile. “Hey, I was right, it is, isn’t it? It is you.”

“It’s me?” Halvar asked bemusedly.

“Yes,” Stark said firmly. “You’re the one who didn’t want me to climb the tree!”

Halvar was still a little confused, but he nodded nonetheless. “That was me,” he confirmed.

Stark flashed a grin. “Yeah, sorry. I mean, I’m going to be brutally honest here, you guys all look pretty much the same to me in your gold uniforms, it’s a bit difficult to keep track.”

“Well, that is the point of a uniform,” Halvar pointed out tentatively. “It’s supposed to make us look the same.”

Stark barked out a surprised laugh. “You know what?” He asked. “You’re not so bad, after all. Hey, I don’t suppose you’re busy today?”

And what was Halvar supposed to say to that? Because, well, he _wasn’t_ , not really, but his plans to go home and sit with a warm drink and a book on battle strategy was probably not going to be an acceptable answer.

So Halvar just stood awkwardly, barely managing to restrain himself from shifting his feet. He didn’t know why Stark had sought _him_ out – and on his day off, no less – but he couldn’t exactly turn him down, not when he knew who Stark was, and who Stark was connected to.

Stark seemed to take his silence as hesitation– which, it sort of was, Halvar supposed.

“Look, Loki’s busy in meetings today, and Thor’s off-world doing who knows what, and there’s no way I’m going to hang out with Fandral or any of those others,” Stark said, his voice strangely… pleading. “So I thought I’d just explore, but this is the third time I’ve walked past that well back there and I can’t seem to find my way around– so I was wondering whether you had any idea of some places to have a good time around here?”

The fact that Stark – very nearly a member of the royal family – was asking _him_ for company was something that never should have happened, something that Halvar might have dreamed about as a little kid. Something that _every_ kid would have dreamed about, really.

Besides, with Stark asking him outright– did Halvar really have a choice?

And, okay, look. Halvar knew that it probably wasn’t the best thing to have done, but he was honestly terrified by the prospect of spending an afternoon alone with Stark. The pressure would be too much– he knew that he would mess something up, and if something happened to Stark, then the blame would only fall upon him. And _then_ , not only would he have every Einherjar on him for his failure, but he would also have to face the wrath of Prince Loki for allowing harm to come to the man that he loved.

No, Halvar was _not_ willing to risk that– so when he agreed, he also decided to take Stark to the only place he could.

When Halvar pushed open the doors and entered the room that had almost become as familiar to him now as his own home, the entire tavern fell completely silent.

“Well, that’s not exactly a warm welcome,” Stark said, leaning in toward Halvar’s ear conspiratorially, though he didn’t exactly bother to keep his voice down.

“They’re… ah, probably just intimidated?’ Halvar suggested.

“By _me?”_

_Yes._

“No,” Halvar said, panicking slightly.

“Ah,” Stark said, nodding with understanding. “ _Loki_ , right? I told him he should try to be a bit more friendly.”

It was close enough to the truth, and Halvar decided it was probably best to just let Stark reach a conclusion on his own.

“Come on,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll show you where to get a drink.”

The guidance, as it turned out, was not necessary. After all, taverns generally had a fairly universal layout, and Stark leaned upon the bar and selected his drink like a pro. As he did so, the voices around them slowly began to start back up again, and Stark was drawn into a conversation himself.

Halvar’s attention was caught by someone calling his name, and he turned to spot Finnur at their usual table. Finnur was gesturing wildly with his hand, and a quick glance proved that Stark was fine– so Halvar made his way between the tables to join his friend.

“You brought him _here?_ ” Finnur hissed before Halvar had even settled in his seat. “Really?”

“I thought it would be safest,” Halvar hissed back. “He said he wanted to have _fun_.”

Finnur paled. “Ah,” he said. “Right, I do see your point there. But you could have taken him to the gardens, or to the library—”

“And let him become _bored?”_ Halvar asked, completely aghast. “No, thank you. At least if he is here, there will be plenty of backup should the worst happen.”

Finnur sighed at that, but did not put up any further argument. He knew just as well as any other Einherjar how dangerous Stark could become when bored, after all.

Thankfully, though, the Bilgesnipe’s Nose appeared to have been a good choice, for it seemed that Stark was quite enjoying himself. They were all rather surprised to realise that he had managed to learn more than just a few of the Einherjar’s names– Bjornar in particular was granted a warm welcome, while Vitur received a pat on the back. Those, though, were mostly understandable, since they had been Einherjar for a long time and took it upon themselves to spare the younger Einherjar of ‘Stark Duty’ as much as was possible. But Stark also knew names of Nyr, of Vili, of Hefti, Hati, even Sessrúmnir, and many, many more than that. He greeted them as they walked by and asked them how they were, referencing moments that Stark saw as hilarious fun but the Einherji in question would always visibly be holding back a wince to recall.

For all that he had joked about them all looking the same, it seemed that Stark had taken more care to get to know them than any of the high-born Aesir had bothered with.

It was some time before Stark made his way to sit by Halvar and Finnur, but when he did, he was wearing a bright smile and did not look bored in the slightest.

(Halvar would be lying if he said that did not bring him enough relief to make his breath gush out in a sigh.)

Despite initial trepidation on both Halvar and Finnur’s part, the conversation remained light and Halvar found himself actually enjoying it. Stark was… nice. He was interesting and energetic, and his opinions on even the most simple of things could range anywhere from odd to outrageous. Halvar wasn’t sure whether to attribute that to Stark’s Midgardian heritage, or to his association with the rather peculiar prince– though of course, the possibility of it being both was equally likely.

Regardless, Halvar was almost having _fun_ , and his first reaction to having the conversation interrupted was annoyance– but when Erik charged in through the door at top speed and with an expression of pure, unadulterated fear etched across his face, that was quickly exchanged with the old, familiar sensation of panic.

“We’ve lost him,” Erik announced rapidly, his breath coming in harsh pants. “We can’t find him anywhere, he’s gone. We need to send out a search.”

Almost every eye in the room turned to look at Stark, and Stark’s own eyes widened.

“Oh god,” he said worriedly. “It’s not Loki is it? Is he okay?”

Halvar blinked, unsure of how to answer, trying to convince himself that this… was not as much of a disaster as it seemed.

“ _What?_ ” Stark asked, his voice raising a pitch. “Why are you all looking at me like that? Is it… has something happened?”

“Oh,” said Erik, his cheeks a bright red under his helm. “Well then. Carry on, gentlemen.”

He then turned on his heel and hurried out of the tavern in a rush, clearly trying to save face.

“Halvar,” Stark said slowly. “What is going on?”

Feeling a horrible sense of foreboding, Halvar swallowed down his panic, and answered.

* * *

It just… it wasn’t _fair_.

Halvar hadn’t even been _on_ _duty_ the day that Stark had come to– well, okay, the day that Halvar had _invited_ Stark to the Bilgesnipe’s Nose.

Halvar hadn’t even told him everything, anyway, he’d merely mentioned that they had… perhaps been keeping a special eye on him since he was essentially a member of the royal family.

But ever since then, it seemed like Stark was actively _trying_ to get himself killed.

There were the usual small things, like walking far too close to the edge of the Bifröst and trying to eat the berries in the garden that were _definitely_ not safe for a human. But then there were the incidents where Halvar – and, unfortunately, the rest of the Einherjar – were _sure_ he was doing on purpose.

For example, there was the time that Stark attempted something called a loop-de-loop over the open void of space, in one of the _open top boats_ and without being strapped down _at all_.

Then he tried to turn one of the statues in the Hall into an automaton, just to prove that he _could_ – which started out quite interestingly, actually, until the thing ‘accidentally’ went on a rampage and nearly cut Stark in half.

And then, to make matters worse, during one of the Allfather’s important speeches that Stark needed to attend on the basis of his position, he refused to bow. And while the Allfather made no comment, likely because he did not expect _anything_ from a Midgardian, let alone knowledge of Asgardian customs, it did put Stark in the crosshairs of several older Aesir who took the insult to heart.

He even programmed a small, circular robot to follow Volstagg around at all times – which would not have been too disconcerting, save the fact that he had stuck a small knife to it, and Volstagg was in constant danger of having his ankles scratched.

So Volstagg was on the warpath, there were conservative Aesir after his blood, there was a statue somewhere in the palace that was likely to jump out and attack people at any moment, and _then_ Stark decided that climbing the walls of Iðunn’s garden would be a good way to spend a slow afternoon.

The Einherjar, of course, assembled at the base of the wall immediately– because it was tall, and Stark was attempting to climb it with no rope, no cushioning, and no suit.

“Oh Norns, if he falls—”

“I bet he’s only doing this to stress us out.”

“This is _your_ fault, Lofnson—”

“Leave him alone,” Finnur snapped, glaring at the Einherji who had started _that_ up again.

Halvar offered him a small smile, hoping that, maybe...

“Thanks—”

“They are right, though,” Finnur interrupted stiffly. “You should not have said anything.”

Halvar’s expression crumpled. He had hoped that his one friend would remain by his side, his friend who had not stopped him from answering Stark when asked.

He didn’t have time to apologise, though, or ask for forgiveness, because in that moment there was a scream—

Stark was falling from the wall, from so very, very high—

Einherjar charged forward, arms stretched out—

Then, at the last moment, Stark’s red and gold armour swooped down from the sky and encased his body before rising back up, leaving Stark completely unharmed—

And the Einherjar who had rushed in to catch him all ran into each other head first, a melee of amour and cursing as their limbs tangled and they clattered to the ground. A moment later, Stark flew down and landed not far from Halvar.

“Well,” he said, his helm folding away into the rest of his suit. “That was fun.”

Fun?

_Fun???_

Stark had just almost collectively wiped out the entire Einherjar corps and he called it _fun?_

Halvar was half way to formulating an answer, but he wasn’t given the chance.

“That was not a smart move,” Vitur said, stalking forward. He had a bruise on his cheek, and it was clear that he was _fuming_ , like he had finally snapped under the pressure.

And, well, Halvar totally understood why.

“Do you not know why we do this?” Vitur asked loudly. “Why we put our lives on the line?”

“Honestly, I _don’t_ know,” Stark snapped. “There’s no need for you to coddle me like I’m a child. I’m _human_ , not made of glass.”

“Compared to an Aesir, you might as well be,” Vitur countered. And it was clear that he was trying to rein in his temper, trying not to get too angry with this mortal that they had sworn to protect.

But oh, even Halvar was having difficulty. Then again… he wasn’t any closer to Stark than any of the others really, but if this truly was his fault, then the only thing he could do was to try and make it right.

So, he turned to look Stark in the eye, and he told him the complete and utter _truth_.

“We’re not protecting you for _you_ ,” Halvar told him. “We’re doing it for Prince Loki.”

Stark blinked in confusion. “I know he didn’t ask you to do this—”

“He did not,” Halvar continued. “But he is happier when you are near, we have all noticed it. He smiles, and he is not as harsh. You make him _happy_ , and we are concerned by the possibility of what might happen should he lose you.”

“You… do this because you care about _Loki?”_ Stark asked, confused. And again, Halvar understood– Loki had never been particularly well liked, and Halvar himself had been confused by the prospect.

But.

“He is our Prince,” Halvar said. “Of course we care.”

Halvar knew that among the Einherjar, there were those who only did this because they were _afraid_ of what Prince Loki might turn into if he ever were to lose the love of his life. And once, Halvar might have counted himself among them, but since he had seen the way Loki acted around Stark, he found that… actually, he just wanted the pair to be happy together. They made a good couple, and it seemed that Stark really had helped the vicious prince turn into the best that he could be.

“You’re doing it for _Loki_ ,” Stark said again, his voice softening a little. “Oh. Well… that’s…”

“ _Ridiculous_.”

Every head turned to the new voice, to see Prince Loki leaning against the wall Stark had just recently tried to climb.

Halvar wondered how long the prince had been standing there– wondered whether he had heard the whole conversation, whether he had just arrived, or whether he had been there as a safe-guard, ready with his seiðr in case Stark’s armour did not arrive on time.

“Prince Loki, we merely wished to—”

“Do you think me incapable of taking care of him?”

“No, we would never—”

“Do you think him incapable of taking care of himself?”

There was a pause.

“ _Well?”_

“No, Prince Loki,” they chorused, though Halvar knew that every single one of them was lying.

(Stark may be a vicious warrior with unmatched intellect, but Halvar could not think of his ability to look after himself without being reminded of when Stark had tripped over that simple rock immediately after almost beating Prince Thor in a duel.)

“Then why are you treating him like a child?”

The Einherjar glanced between themselves.

“Answer the question,” Loki said, and it was clear that he was starting to get a little irritated now.

The scene had begun to draw a crowd, curious as to what was happening, drawn in by the picture of a group of Einherjar being chastised by a prince while a decidedly amused human looked on.

“He is a mortal, my prince,” Vitur said with a wince. “We need to make sure that he does not—”

“He has consumed a golden apple, you buffoons,” Loki snapped at them. “He is _not_ a mortal. There is no need to dog his every step, he shall not drop dead at any moment!”

Halvar gaped, and he knew that the others were all doing the same.

“I wonder if I _actually_ could have survived that fall,” Stark mused, his gaze running up and down over the wall—

“You are _not_ about to attempt to find out,” Loki said, and the softening of his voice as he spoke to Stark was palpable. He took Stark’s hand then, and the pair vanished, leaving the Einherjar to stare at the empty space, still completely frozen in shock. The crowd was likewise confused, a little confused on what had just happened—

And they were shocked, because not only had Loki just informed them that a mortal had been granted a golden apple for the first time in over a millennium, but because…

Well. 

It might have been the most unconventional way that a Royal Betrothal had _ever_ been announced, but the admission of the apple meant that a betrothal had been announced nonetheless.

* * *

Since Prince Loki had announced his betrothal to Tony Stark – no matter how unconventionally – the whole realm was in celebration.

Not that the whole of the realm cared, of course, for they all had their own issues to be dealing with that were given higher priority than following the relationship status of the least-liked of the royals. But it _was_ an excuse to party, and that, more than anything else, would always raise the spirits of the Asgardian populace, and celebrations sprung up all through the city.

The _official_ party, of course, was to be held in the palace, which meant that the Einherjar were on high alert. Any such royal event was always to be considered high risk, and the Einherjar were to treat it as if it had been confirmed as the target of an attack.

That meant increased guards, increased security, increased protection for all of the Aesir attending, but the royal family especially.

But of course, the fact that Prince Loki had ordered the Einherjar to _stop_ protecting Stark meant that they were facing a little bit of a problem.

It was discussed at a pre-party strategy meeting, where every role and protocol was carefully laid out. Halvar had sat at the back of the meeting, far from the front as his position as the newest Einherjar and his mistake meant that he was not one of the most favoured soldiers at the current moment.

So, of course he thought he had misheard when the small list of Einherjar who would be stationed _inside_ the Great Hall ended with—

“... and Halvar Lofnson.”

“Me?” Halvar squeaked, surprised.

“Stark seems to like you,” Vitur explained impatiently. “So you’re inside with Bjornar, Nyr, and myself. Everyone else will be outside, monitoring everyone who enters and patrolling the halls. This plan has been approved by Lord Tyr, who will also be in attendance. His word will be second _only_ to the Allfather should anything go wrong, understood?”

The chorus of agreement flowed through the room, and Halvar nodded firmly with the rest of them. He might have made a few mistakes, and he might be new, but this was his chance to prove himself– to prove that he _could_ be a good Einherjar, that he had what it takes.

He was nervous when he moved to his post in the Hall, but as the people began to file in and the festivities got into full swing, the nervousness gave way to determination and focus. He swept his gaze over the whole Hall, checked every movement that he could for something suspicious, kept an eye out for every indicator that his training had told him to watch for.

The royal family were also in his sights of course, and he watched them closely whenever they were closer to him than the other three Einherjar stationed inside the Hall. And of course, habit had Halvar glancing to Stark more often than any of the others, and he found himself pleased to see the no-longer mortal laughing and enjoying himself, seemingly without a care. Never once did Halvar see Stark away from Prince Loki’s side– which, given the nature of the celebration, was not entirely unexpected. But they were pressed closer than tradition and common courtesy called for, always touching even as they engaged in conversation among others, consistently entwined with arms around waists and heads upon shoulders. It was… different, from how Halvar had seen them act before, and he thought that perhaps they had both been waiting for this moment for a while.

Thankfully, the party appeared to be going by without a hitch.

And it was after the food had been served, and after most of the guests had become a little drunk that the music changed, from the usual traditional rhythms into something lower, and with a tempo far slower than what most Aesir enjoyed dancing to. The music was, in fact, rather unfamiliar, and Halvar couldn’t help but wonder if it were a Midgardian piece.

If it was… well, his estimation of Prince Loki had just raised a fair bit higher than it had been before.

Stark certainly appeared to appreciate the gesture, for he leaned into Loki’s arms as they swayed together in the centre of the dancefloor– and he only lifted his head from the prince’s shoulder to press their lips together in a sweet kiss.

Halvar was so caught up in watching their happiness that he almost missed it when an Einherji came through the front door. It was Finnur– his steps were quick and his expression tight as he moved easily through the crowd to where Vitur stood straight against the wall. Vitur was opposite Halvar, so he had a clear view as they spoke frantically to each other, worry beginning to curl through his chest. Then Vitur left his post to speak to Bjornar while Finnur headed toward Halvar.

“What’s going on?” Halvar asked.

“There’s something happening,” Finnur whispered, his voice a harried hiss. “No one knows what, but there’s _something_. They caught someone outside, a lookout perhaps. We need to be on our guard. Vitur is going to warn the Allfather.”

Sure enough when Halvar looked to throne he found Vitur on the dais, while Bjornar was making his way to Nyr down below.

“Just keep an eye out,” Finnur finished. “I’m to take up a position by the door. Just be ready.”

It was like someone had turned the party upside down and turned off all the lights, despite the fact that the rest of the people in the Hall had no clue that anything had changed. After all, no one ever really paid any attention to what the Einherjar were doing. But knowing now that something was coming, Halvar felt electrified, his heart beating too fast with the anticipation and fear of not knowing _when_ it was going to occur.

His vigilance meant that he thought he saw someone pour something into the barrel of mead that sat closest to the dance floor– but then—

It all happened rather quickly.

There was a commotion by the door– Finnur had apprehended someone trying to enter with a sword, someone who was wearing full armour and had certainly _not_ been invited to the celebration.

Then there was a racket to the left, and Bjornar and Nyr dove in that direction to stop a large Aesir who was beginning to charge with a battle axe, after seemingly forcing his way in through the servant’s entrance to the left of the throne. Vitur was nearby and joined the fight, charging down the steps of the dais and throwing himself beside his two comrades with a shout.

There was more and more noise by the door, and Halvar realised with a jolt that the Einherjar waiting outside had been blocked from getting through by the commotion caused by both the man with the sword, and the sudden surge of people trying to get away from the Hall. There was no backup on the way, no one who could come to help them.

But of course, it was not just the five Einherjar in the room who were able to fight, and Halvar heard rather than saw Volstagg enter the fray with a mighty roar. Thor was wading through the crowd, his hand already raised to summon Mjölnir, Odin was rising in his seat, and Frigga was starting to direct the crowds out of the door at the other, less crowded end of the Hall.

But through the pandemonium, Halvar continued to try and search for one particular pair, his gaze flicking frantically from face to face until—

_There._

He spotted them standing as close together as always, Prince Loki’s arm around Stark’s back, almost appearing to be trying to shield him while those sharp green eyes darted about, quite clearly trying to check for further danger before they chose their next move.

Halvar immediately pushed forward. He knew that Prince Loki was more than a capable warrior, and he’d seen Stark in action. Neither of them were weak or vulnerable– but there was no way of knowing what they were up against, or even where the next attack would come from. Halvar had either seen or heard of three attackers so far, but what if there were more?

Surely it was better to protect them as best as he could, but as he drew near enough for Prince Loki to spot his presence, the prince almost seemed to _growl_.

“Go and find my mother,” Loki snapped. “You will be of more use there, we do not need your paltry protection.”

“He’s only trying to help,” Stark started, but Loki shook his head.

“He will only make things _worse_. _Go_ , we do not need your help.”

That, of course, was an order from Halvar’s _prince_ , and everything he had been taught screamed at him to obey. But his instincts were screaming something else entirely– and besides. Vitur had said that the only person who could override the protocols was the _Allfather_ – and at this current moment, that certainly was not Prince Loki.

So Halvar stood tall, and refused to leave their side. Prince Loki huffed in annoyance, Stark shrugged in apology—

Movement caught the corner of Halvar’s eye—

The glint of metal, the creak of a bow, the _twang_ of a string—

And Halvar threw himself at the entwined pair without a second’s thought.

It didn’t hurt– it was just like a punch to his shoulder, hard enough to knock the wind from him, but otherwise the feeling was not unlike someone had thrown a piece of rotten fruit, perhaps, and it had become stuck to his skin. He could feel something _there_ , something _wrong_ , but… no, it didn’t hurt.

At least, not at first.

The fall rattled his bones, and he both heard and felt his wrist _snap_ as it was crushed under the weight of that heavy Einherjar uniform. _That_ was certainly painful– a burning fire that raged all the way up his arm. And then, like the moment of calm was shattered by the sound of the snap, Halvar’s shoulder began to sting– and when he turned his head and _saw_ the arrow buried in his skin and the pain of it made itself known, it was all that Halvar could do not to scream.

There was a ringing in his ears, the sound of that bow twanging _over_ and _over_ , and he clawed at his temples, trying to make it stop—

But that made his shoulder hurt all the more, and so his fingers clutched there instead. It took someone forcibly pulling his hands away for him to stop, but _that_ jarred his wrist, and he gasped with it as tears pricked at his eyes.

“Shit, shit, _shit_.”

There was more pressure on his shoulder now, though it was _lifting_ , not pressing, and Halvar’s fevered gaze flashed on the scene before him. He couldn’t see Prince Loki, but Stark was there, kneeling down beside him.

“Oh, fuck,” Stark said, gently rolling him onto his uninjured side so that the arrow in his shoulder was not pressed against the ground. “Hey, uh– Halvar?”

Halvar groaned, and Stark took that as a cue to keep talking.

“Okay, Halvar, you’re going to be fine, all right? It’s gone all the way through, it’s not going to be hard to get out.”

And, yes, Halvar knew that Stark was right. He knew that a through-and-through was better, that it meant he would not need to get the arrowhead extracted in a long and painful process. He knew, logically, that Stark was only trying to help.

But the thought of an arrow going _all the way through_ his body…

Halvar shuddered. There was a hole in his shoulder, and there was no way he could feel anything about that other than _sick_.

Thankfully, though, the vigilance and panic had meant that he hadn’t had the time to eat or drink anything over the course of the night, and he managed to hold on to the meagre contents of his stomach as Stark called out for assistance. Someone passed Stark a cloth, which he used to compress the wound around the arrow, holding in the blood without moving the projectile itself. And just as he was doing that, Prince Loki reappeared.

Halvar stared at him, more for something to focus his mind on than anything else. His hair had fallen into disarray from the careful, slicked back style it had been in before, and his hands and sleeves were bloody, his elegant green tunic now splattered with red.

“He is gone,” Loki said firmly, his eyes running over Stark as if assuring himself that his partner was all right. Halvar continued to stare, not quite comprehending– and he was surprised when it was Stark who spoke next.

“Do you hear that, Halvar? Loki killed him, there’s no need to worry anymore. You did it, you helped to protect us.”

Halvar breathed out a long sigh.

_He had done it, Stark and Loki were both safe._

Prince Loki glanced over then as if noticing Halvar for the first time– it seemed like it had been a struggle for him to tear his gaze from Stark. But then, to Halvar’s surprise (and, by the sound of the gasp that went around those few left in the Hall, everyone else's as well), the prince bent his knees and gracefully sank down to kneel on the ground beside his betrothed– and beside Halvar.

“Has someone sent for the healers?” Loki asked.

It was Vitur who answered, his voice sombre. “Finnur has already gone to get them, my prince.”

Loki nodded firmly, his eyes already beginning to spark with green power as his hand hovered over the shaft of the arrow. Stark removed the cloth at Loki’s nod, and then the prince began to remove the arrow with the light pull of his seiðr.

Prince Loki was not known to be a skilled healer– but he knew enough to make it painless, and to halt the blood once the arrow was out so that Halvar would not bleed to death. After all, Prince Loki had attended many battles and skirmishes, and had learned how to do enough for an arrow wound before the injured warrior could reach a healer. Silently, and in the privacy of his own mind, Halvar could not help but wonder how many lives Prince Loki had saved.

Stark stayed and watched the process, and Halvar alternated between watching Loki’s focus and Stark’s increasing pallor. The wrist gave Loki a bit of a pause though, and then it was Stark who used the bloodied cloth and one of Halvar’s own vambraces to splint the injury while his betrothed focused on his effort to halt Halvar’s bleeding.

The moment that Halvar’s wrist was properly wrapped, Stark’s whole body seemed to sag.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he groaned. “I need a drink.”

Prince Loki paused, turning to look at his partner. His expression betrayed the fact that letting Stark move away from him was the very last thing Loki wanted to do in that moment– but then Stark placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Close as he was, Halvar could see the way that Stark’s fingers curled around the prince’s collar, brushing against the bare skin at his throat. Loki seemed to turn in toward the touch, just ever so slightly, so as to be hardly noticeable. His expression changed as well, but just as minutely– just the smallest touch of affection curling at his smile, and soft gentleness entering his gaze as his eyes began to close slightly.

Halvar knew that he was seeing more and more, and he also knew that there was more again below the surface. Because of course, the whole of Asgard was aware that Loki and Stark had chosen to commit themselves to each other– but commitment was not the same as _devotion_. They had chosen this path because they truly loved one another, and _that_ was why Loki had announced their relationship – and most likely the betrothal, as well – in the unconventional way that he had. Perhaps that was what had the Aesir who had attacked so afraid. Perhaps they did not like seeing their prince so captivated by a Midgardian– but they should have known better.

Loki would never let Stark go– and to lose him would shatter the prince beyond repair.

The Einherjar had known that for very a long time, after all– it was why they had seen the necessity of protecting Stark at all costs.

Stark, who had learned the Einherjar’s names and taken notice of them when no one else ever had. Stark, who may have once been a mortal, but remained as fearless as any of Asgard’s greatest warriors.

Stark, who was leaning down to press a soft, reassuring kiss to his betrothed’s cheek before turning to head over to the drinks, his hand trailing over Loki’s shoulders as he did so.

Loki remained tense after that, and Halvar understood– it must be difficult for him to be parted from his love so soon after almost losing him. After all– Halvar was wearing full armour, and yet the arrow had pierced straight through. Had it hit its intended target, then Stark would be dead without a chance of recovery. But despite his discomfort Loki finished his work on Halvar’s shoulder with close focus.

“The healers will not be long, now,” Loki said.

The numbing spell on Halvar’s shoulder had clouded his mind, but with Loki’s seiðr fading it was beginning to wear off. So it was that it was only as Prince Loki helped him into a sitting position that Halvar was struck was with a sudden and horrible realisation.

“No,” he groaned– and he grabbed Prince Loki’s wrist, because– well, because _Norns be damned_ , this was an emergency, and never mind royal protocol. He’d gripped with his injured hand, though, and with the spell gone it sent a lance of pain up his arm.

Loki froze. “What—”

“Stark,” Halvar said, forcing the words through teeth that were gritting against the pain. “Don’t let him drink the mead.”

Loki’s brow creased. “What do you—”

Halvar was still hurt, but he was more than capable of cutting through the prince’s question with a single, _horrible_ word.

 _“Poison_.”

Loki understood immediately, and his eyes widened as he let go of Halvar and dashed away, his voice echoing through the Hall in a desperate cry.

“ _Anthony!”_

Stark turned at Loki’s shout, the tankard a mere quarter of an inch from his lips. His pause meant that Loki reached him before he took the first sip– and the prince must have used his seiðr, for there was no way that Loki could have crossed such a distance in such a short time otherwise. Even Vitur, who had been closer and had also begun to sprint at Halvar’s warning, had not even made it halfway.

The tankard flew from Stark’s grip as Loki shoved it away, and then Loki’s hands were all over his lover, running over his face and down his shoulders, possibly checking for injury but more likely trying to assure himself that Stark was all right.

But Halvar’s gaze was on the tankard, and the way that the spilled liquid was bubbling away at the stone floor. It wasn’t poison, it was something much worse than that– something that would have killed even an Aesir in an instant. Stark’s golden apple would not have protected him from it– and there was no longer any doubt.

It caught Loki’s gaze as well, but only for a moment before he turned away from the now smoking tankard and turned back to Stark, his hands gently cupping the Midgardian’s face.

Halvar couldn’t hear what was said, but he knew that it had to be some kind of promise, a vow, a _declaration_. He half expected them to kiss, then, but Stark whispered something in Loki’s ear, and they turned together to cross the Hall once again, only their fingers remaining entwined.

“You just saved his life,” Loki said as they approached, his voice full of awe that felt wrong, considering whom it was coming from– but at the same time just seemed so incredibly natural. “ _Again_.”

And… Halvar wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say. Because, well– yes, he _had_ saved Stark’s life – twice – but the thought of gaining praise for that left him feeling a little awkward. After all, not only was it his job, but it was just what any well-minded Aesir would have done.

Thankfully, he was spared from answering by the clatter of footsteps. It was Finnur, finally returned with the healers, and as they crowded around Halvar, Prince Loki and Stark backed away, heading toward the Allfather. The healers patched his shoulder and healed his wrist properly, and by the time they were done, Halvar had become the star attraction of the hall.

He could see Prince Loki and Stark speaking with Prince Thor, the Allfather, and Queen Frigga at the foot of the throne’s dais. There was movement up on the mezzanine where the archer had been, some Aesir checking the corpse that Loki had left, and Halvar could see Volstagg and the other warriors who had been present were leading the attackers out of the main door with the assistance of a few Einherjar. But most of Halvar’s comrades, it would seem, were crowded around _him_ , as were the remaining Aesir who had not fled when the fighting had started.

“What…?” Halvar looked between them all curiously.

“You saved them,” Finnur explained, stepping a little closer. “Halvar, you’re a hero.”

Halvar was still in shock as Finnur helped him to his feet, and he would have lost his footing if someone else had not come to catch his other side. When he finally was standing straight, Halvar realised that it was Vitur– his smile small but proud.

“You did well,” Vitur said.

The words bolstered Halvar more than any others could in that moment. It was everything that he had always wanted to hear, it was the moment that he had been hoping for since he was a child.

He had lived up to the glory of his golden cloak and he had done _well._

It was more than enough to enough to straighten his back through the pain, and he found himself smiling shyly at them in response.

“I want this mess cleaned up,” the Allfather said loudly, his voice echoing through the Hall and causing every eye to turn back to the royal family.

“Father,” Loki said. The word was as stiff has it had been since Prince Thor’s interrupted coronation, but Odin barely seemed to notice.

“It is your betrothed that he saved,” the Allfather said in statement that was clearly final. “You may deal with this.”

As the Allfather swept from the Hall with the Queen following behind, Prince Loki’s expression was myriad of emotions, a maelstrom of confusion, frustration, and surprise– almost as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be pleased with this responsibility or not. It was Stark, of course, who brought Loki back to himself, tugging gently on his hand and offering a small smile.

By the time they reached the crowd, Loki was composed once again, and holding himself like the Prince they all knew well.

“I wish to thank you,” Loki said, his gaze resting on Halvar alone. “Were it not for your quick action, then I would have lost the person most dear to me today.”

“There really is no need,” Halvar said, feeling the back of his neck flush warm.

“Halvar, you saved Anthony’s life,” Loki said, his voice soft despite his regal posture. “If there is anything that I can do for you, then name it– and if it is within my power, then it shall be yours.”

“Brother,” Prince Thor said, stepping up with concern etched across his expression, like he didn’t quite approve. But this time it was Stark who turned, frowning at Thor and shaking his head slightly.

It was a small gesture, but Halvar could tell that it held a lot of weight– and it was certainly a bold move for a Midgardian to make against the Crown Prince of Asgard, even if he was soon to be that prince’s brother in law.

Stark, it seemed, was just as protective of Loki as Loki was of him.

It was then that Halvar realised Loki was still waiting for an answer, watching Halvar with a tightness in his eyes. It was clear that he was half expecting for Halvar to ask for something ridiculous– wealth, or power, or perhaps a position in the court. But despite any misgivings, Halvar knew that Loki would keep his word and still give it to him, so long as he were able.

It couldn’t be more clear that the prince had done the calculations. After all, there was nothing that Loki approached without properly thinking it through. Even if he expected the request to be outrageous, he knew that such a thing would only encourage more people to work toward keeping Stark safe, and would discourage further assassination attempts.

Prince Loki had made this offer out of love, and it was that, more than anything, that had Halvar shaking his head.

“Being part of the Einherjar is all that I have ever wanted,” Halvar said quietly. He was sure his father was probably cursing him right now, because he could have asked for _anything_. But… he was happy where he was, and he knew he would have the chance to do even more good things. It was only that, well. “It is just… not exactly what I was anticipating.”

Loki’s answering smile was not as sharp as Halvar would otherwise have expected it to be.

“I could speak with Tyr about getting you a promotion, then?” Prince Loki suggested.

Lord Tyr was, in fact, in the room at the very moment if the sudden cough from somewhere in the crowd was anything to go by.

“No,” Halvar replied, and it was surprisingly easy. “I am only new, and I know I have much to learn. I simply… I would ask that I am allowed to continue as I was– only that perhaps, if possible, Lord Stark could… try to stay out of trouble a bit more?”

Loki actually _laughed_ at that, a bright thing that seemed so at odds with the rest of the evening that it almost had Halvar smiling in response.

“ _Lord_ Stark?” Stark muttered, but Prince Loki took no notice as he said–

“Many have tried to convince him of that, I am afraid, but to no avail. He is just a beacon for all things dangerous.”

Knowing what he did of Stark, Halvar would have predicted that the ex-mortal would then begin to complain.

But instead, Stark nudged his betrothed lightly in the side with a smirk. “I attract dangerous things, huh?”

Loki leaned down to press a light kiss to Stark’s cheek in response, lingering there for a moment too long for it to truly be considered chaste before turning back to Halvar, his usual sharp poise returned.

“Then it shall be so,” Loki said. “But your actions here will not go unrewarded. You will be granted the appropriate award for your outstanding service– Is that not correct, Tyr?”

Lord Tyr made his way forward through the crowd, his chin raised. “Of course, my prince. It shall be as you say. Lofnson’s deeds will result in him being awarded with honours.”

Halvar felt his cheeks flush, and he ducked his head in an unconscious movement. He had not done this for honours, or for the bells and whistles. In fact, he had not even saved Stark for the good of Asgard, nor even for Loki’s happiness. He had saved the human because he had come to like him, and that… well, that was more than enough reason.

Again, Loki smiled, and Halvar felt cut by how _real_ it was. Prince Loki had never smiled that way before– at least, he never had whenever Halvar had seen him. Perhaps, though, that was simply the smile that Stark brought out in him– Stark, and no one else.

Once he was sure Halvar had nothing else to say, Loki shifted his gaze to the two Aesir standing to his right. Lord Tyr, of course, had already been spoken to, and Vitur stood on Tyr’s right, between him and Halvar.

When Loki spoke to them, his voice was direct and left no room for argument.

“You will stop the foolishness that you have been partaking in these past months,” Loki said sharply. “There is no need to continue to treat Anthony as a child.”

“Then… how should we treat him, Prince Loki?” Vitur asked hesitantly. “If he is not to be treated as a mortal—”

“Which he no longer is,” Loki said sharply, while Stark grinned at his side.

Vitur inclined his head in respectful agreement. “He is no longer a mortal, so he no longer requires as much protection as he once did,” Vitur agreed. “So how would you have us treat him?”

“Anthony will be protected the same as I,” Loki replied, his eyes darting first to Lord Tyr, and then to Vitur. “Do you understand? He is not to be treated as less _or_ more than you would me.”

“Yes, Prince Loki,” they chanted, while Lord Tyr narrowed his eyes at Vitur as if he wasn’t entirely sure _why_ he was being chastised, but he _was_ sure that it wasn’t his own fault.

Then, when Vitur turned to Halvar to offer him a wink in the same moment that Stark gave him a bright smile, Halvar knew it was a moment that would forever be burned into his mind. And he knew that this day, the day that he had saved Tony Stark’s life not once, but _twice_ , would become of the proudest that he would know.

But, hopefully, there would be more reasons to be proud on the horizon– because he had been granted _honours_ , and he could continue to be an Einherjar for many more years to come. It was his job to guard the realm eternal, and with every bone in his body, Halvar knew that he would not fail.

* * *

It was a few months after the announcement of Prince Loki and Tony Stark’s betrothal, and the wedding preparations were in full swing. People had been invited from all throughout the Nine, and the buzz of activity meant that the Einherjar were running themselves ragged trying to keep everybody safe.

There was time, though, for one short celebration– the appointment of a brand new Einherji, someone to take Halvar’s place as the newest member. But due to the stress of the wedding, Vitur was busy, and had passed the job on inducting their newest recruit to Halvar.

Halvar, admittedly, was a little put out that he was once again missing the party, but he knew that this was important. Even more so now, that Prince Loki and Stark were looking out for what they were doing– but given the risks, they couldn’t exactly _stop._

“Hello, Jari,” Halvar said, leaning over the table in front of the new recruit, his lips pulling into a smirk. “Congratulations on your appointment to the Einherjar. But before you can truly begin your duty, there is one thing that you must know– something that you cannot speak of to anyone, and _especially_ not to Lord Tyr, Prince Loki, or Tony Stark. Do you understand?”

Jari rather looked like he didn’t, but there was a determined blaze in his eyes as he nodded that Halvar found both endearing and amusing.

Oh, the poor new Einherji had absolutely no idea.

“Tell me, then,” Halvar said in the most intense voice that he could muster. “What do you think of Prince Loki?”


End file.
